


Power

by Greet



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Based off of Power's MV, EXO's Comeback, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Poor kids, Very gay and very cheesy, power
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2018-12-24 12:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12012381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greet/pseuds/Greet
Summary: [ up for adoption / on hiatus ]These kids are only in college.How can they carry the weight of the world on their shoulders?Oh, they weren't originally from this world.





	1. I. Kai

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! I know I have another fic in the works, but this kind of project is something I've never done before! Wish me luck, and I hope ya'll like it!

KAI 

 

“To your left!”

“Dammit Chen!”

“Ow! That’s my toe!”

“Can we just kill this thing so I can get back to my calculus homework?”

Kai never wanted to kill his brothers more. They scrambled over their own two feet, guns firing in every direction except in the direction of their enemy, a mundane robot with large, craning arm and blaring red eye. They fought these time and time again, each one larger and stronger than the one before it. Kai assumed the repetitive enemies would fail to challenge the team, but again, he assumed too much of them. They panicked each time, the rookie, Kyungsoo, scrambling over his feet and firing at him instead of the egg-shaped robot. With a set jaw, Kai shoved him back and stepped forward, gun raised. He took shot after shot, but as expected, the bullets only ricocheted, heavy lead cylinders embedding into brick-sided buildings and crumbling pavement.   
The robot focused its blaring, red eye on him, its crimson light bearing down onto his skin, basking him in a disturbing warmth. He shut his eyes, the red burning through his eyelids. Bit by bit, he lost feeling in his legs, then his knees, then his waist. The sensation- the numbness- trickled up his body as he felt himself disappear from the current universe, stuck in a wisp limbo where he lingered for what felt like hours, the black void cushioning his body in zero-gravity. He traveled through a fold in space in time, the blackness forming and bending all around him, sucking him deeply inside only to spit him right back out. He flinched forward, now behind the robot, his breath returning to his lungs in a jolting rattle and his feet skidding against the floor as he landed. The robot spiraled, obviously confused, unable to do anything as Kai rushed up behind it, ripping away the control panel and shooting at all the complex wiring. He had done this method before to vanquish the enemy, but as the robot’s reflexes became quicker and quicker, and as it adapted to his techniques, it became harder to beat.  
It whipped around and sent Kai flying with his claw arm, the metal crashing into his ribs and ramming him into brick. A curt cry tore from his throat as he crumbled against the ground. His gun skidded several feet away, too far from his reach.

“Kai!” He heard someone cry. His ears rang too harshly to tell who.

Through bleary eyes, he could see the robot turn its attention to him once more, its sharp, agile legs racing as it barreled towards him. He struggled to summon the familiar and comfortable sensation of numbness to his toes and fingers, but the void refused to listen to his plea, refusing him access to his limbo. He lifted his arms to cover his face. His heart hammered in his throat.

The blow never came, but a strangled cry not from his own lips did. He looked up, vision returning in blurry and spinning glimpses. Xiumin stood before him, hands outstretched as a shield of ice held back the large metal claw, its sharp talons plucking and digging at the ice, but the more it dug away, the more Xiumin summoned into his shield, the arctic blue up to his elbows. His feet slid as the robot pushed him back, now just over Kai’s body. 

“Why didn’t you teleport?” He was panting. Sweat gathered on his crinkled brow.

“I can’t.”

 

“What do you mean you can’t!?” 

Xiumin cried out. The robot’s claw drilled through his ice shield, and his knees gave him, collapsing nearly on top of Kai’s crumpled body. His hands trembled, Kai noticed, his fingertips an unusually bright tint of blue. Kai tried summoning the void once more. It continued to ignore him. 

Kai felt his nerve-endings spark with a sudden jolt through his body, and with the way Xiumin tensed up against him, he could tell the shudder tore through him as well. The buzz never left, trailing at the tips of his fingers and curves of his lips until he saw Chen round the corner of an alleyway, cheek bloody and caked with soot. The robot failed to see him. In Chen’s hands was a plug- two ends of one. What was he up to?

“Woo-hoo! Robot!” Chen said. “Over here! Nice, powerful orb for you over here! Come ‘n get it!”

The talons inches from Kai’s nose, its cool metal snarling and baring its ugly teeth, tore from him and turned its attention to Chen, who stood now across the street, jumping wildly up and down, the white cord flopping on the ground beside him.   
Kai felt the pounding of his heart freeze as the robot swiveled on its axis, charing Chen’s direction. He begged the void to come back, the numbness teasing at his limbs for seconds only to disintegrate and leaving Kai crumpled against the wall, riddled with pain, completely helpless.  
Xiumin lunged forward, eyes locked onto Chen as the robot turned its deadly stare to him. Kai weakly grabbed his wrist. “Don’t. He’ll be fine.” His hands were so cold.

Chen ran, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He ducked behind walls of cement, gun clutched close to his chest with one hand, the other wrapped around the power cords. Kai lost visual on him. 

“I’m going after him,” Xiumin said. Kai didn’t let go. 

“Something’s wrong with our powers,” he said. “We don’t know how to control them yet. If you go after him, you die.”

 

Xiumin’s mouth stitched shut, his eyes brimming with indecision and frustration in the form of clear crystals forming at the edges of his eyes. Kai squeezed his hand. 

Several seconds past in silence, the distant whirring of the robot sputtering to a sharp whine, followed by a shocking explosion. Kai grabbed onto the brick wall, feeling in his body beginning to return to him, as the entire ground beneath him shook. The explosion’s aftershocks rippled through the cement of the road and alleyways. The sky spiraled to a bright array of gold and scarlet, clouds of ash and soot lowering from the sky, embers sprinkling down like a cruel snow. Embers grazed and nicked at his bare shoulders. Xiumin panted beside him, eyes wide, crystals now tucked away and hidden. 

Minutes passed as the air cleared of ash, and the explosion’s shocks fell to muted white noise. Xiumin shakily rose to his feet, and practically crawled from the alleyway, hands still tinted blue and shaking- shivering. Kai had never seen him shiver. Not since he gained his orb. 

“Chen? Jongdae?”

A cough sounded from behind a crumbled wall heavily charred and seared. Chen stood from behind it, cheeks caked with more soot and ash, the edges of his unruly hair singed. 

“Oh, thank God,” Xiumin gasped. Chen offered a shaky smile. 

“Ta-da.”

Xiumin rushed forward, and while Chen stretched his arms out for a hug, he groaned as Xiumin sent a fist plummeting into his gut. He fell to his knees.

“What was that for?!”

 

“For scaring me to death, idiot.”

Kai forced himself to stand, his torso screaming with protest as he staggered out to meet his two teammates, his own eyes heavy. He was sure he broke a rib or two, each breath he took shocking his entire spine and sternum in agony. Something was wrong. But they were short a healer. 

“Where are the others?”

As if on cue, Suho, their damn leader, came rushing from around a corner, barrage of hand-guns in hand. As soon as he saw the scene before him, Chen perched on the ground, cradling a bruised abdomen, he sighed.

“I missed it again?” He pouted. “We never defeat it that quickly. I wanted to try out my new gun.”

Kyungsoo sheepishly followed him, goggles placed over his eyes, making him appear bug-eyed. Kai scowled. 

“Take those off,” he said. “We could’ve died! And you all were off collecting handguns?”

Suho’s face scrunched, his nerdy grin falling to a scowl. “I was getting back up. Our guns were doing nothing.”

“That’s what your power is for!”

“You know more than anyone that we’re not in control yet!”

 

“Will you guys stop it?”

Kai, Suho, and the others turned to face Chanyeol, his hair and eye bright as ever, tearing disturbingly through the ashen darkness of the evening. Kai felt his jaw set, his entire body tensing.

“I could say the same to you Chanyeol,” Kai began. “You have one of the strongest powers of all of us. Where the hell were you?”

 

Chanyeol scoffed, his breath light and husky. He kept his arms crossed over his chest, looking down at Kyungsoo as he walked closer, a slight smirk hinting at his features as Kyungsoo averted his gaze. 

“You seemed to handle it just fine without me,” he scowled. “I’m not wasting my powers on some stupid robot that we always manage to defeat.”

Kai forgot his pain, rage surging deeply in his veins like ten-story tsunami waves. “We are a team, Chanyeol. Not because we want to be, but because we were chosen.” He grit his teeth, fists balling up as he grasped at the front of Chanyeol’s hoodie, the latter unbothered by the threat. “We need you and you need us. This solo act won’t go anymore.”

“You’re not the leader,” Chanyeol said, pushing Kai by his shoulders. He shot a pointed look at Suho. “He is. Some team we are.”

This time, Suho stepped forward before Kai lost control of his tongue, his teeth instead gnawing at his bottom lip as he struggled to bite back his words. 

“Chanyeol, please,” Suho said, voice soft. “We don’t need-”

“Hey, we killed it!” Sehun announced, running to the group, his ridiculous makeshift walkie-talkie tucked in his palm, its antenna nearly whacking Xiumin in the head. “I was trying to contact Baekhyun-”

At the mention of the name, all seven of them seized up, Kai looking directly to Chanyeol. He remained stoic, the only indication he had even heard the name a small flare in the redness of his eye. 

Suho put a hand on Sehun’s shoulder. “Any luck?”

 

“Well, no,” he said. 

Chanyeol turned to walk away. 

“Hold up,” Kai called.

He looked out at the members of his team: a nerdy, soft-spoken leader who needed to prove himself and a bumbling mechanic following the leader like a lost puppy, a sullen, angry victim of grief who held the power of destruction at his fingertips and a young kid who was way in over his head, an image of power and strength, and a spark who brought happiness and confidence. Kai was a force of sincerity- someone who knew and understood the weight of their responsibility- something the others lacked. 

They were ragtag, sure, with the way Xiumin expressed his feelings of gratefulness or adoration through bouts of violence, and the varying levels of education and experience in all of them. With these new powers, the surge of adrenaline shaky and new in their veins, they struggled to keep up, their bodies spiraling out of control as they pushed themselves, past their studies, past their physical boundaries, to fight these robots that endlessly pursued them. 

Kai wasn’t sure why they kept going after them. But he was sure it had something to do with their orbs- orbs Baekhyun fought for- orbs they were in constant danger of losing.

“Let’s get back to the dorm, guys,” Suho said. “We’ve had a long day.”

“Is no one gonna acknowledge how I took that robot down by myself?” Chen whined.

“Yes,” Kai laughed, feeling his sides ache. Sure, his team was irritating beyond belief and inexperienced, but at times, so was he. But, these boys were now his brothers- his family through thick and thin. “Great job, Chen. Let’s go celebrate.”


	2. II. Suho

Disclaimer (for those who are confused): EXO uses their stage-names for in super-hero form for saving of their identity. I know Chanyeol and Baekhyun don’t have one, nor Kyungsoo, but this will be revealed later in the story. :) Thank you! I’ll leave a key of characters at the end for those who aren’t sure of their real names. 

II. SUHO 

The team clambered into the dormitory, heads hung and clothes singed and dirty. He closed the door behind them all, his eyes heavy and weighed down by undereye circles. Their dorm was small, a foyer branching into a living space and compact kitchen, halls at both sides leading to two rooms on each side, a set of bunk-beds and two desks each. It was enough space for eight. Baekhyun used to sleep on the couch.   
Dishes overwhelmed the sink, layering up in cascading, gravity-defying towers. Clothes littered the floor, underwear draped over the back of the couch, and crumpled soda cans decorated the glass coffee table. The broad windows encompassing the entire front wall of their living room were spotted and streaked with dirt and handprints. Textbooks and binders covered every inch of the couch. Sehun shuffled forward and flopped, face-forward, onto the books. He fell asleep instantly. Suho scowled.

“I know we have class to worry about,” he said. “And saving the world, but can we at least keep this place clean?”

 

Chanyeol slipped past him, his shoulder ramming into Suho’s as he shoved past. He disappeared around the corner. Suho didn’t expect anything less. 

“We’re tired, Jummyeon,” Jongdae whined. Suho blinked. He wasn’t used to the others calling him by his first name. “We can clean tomorrow. We still have homework.”

“And you do your homework?” Minseok stepped up beside him, arm hooked around his neck. “You must’ve hit your head taking down that robot.”

 

“Jongdae’s right.” Kyungsoo appeared in the kitchen, unwrapping a granola bar. “I’ve got Calculus.”

 

“We know. You announced it on the battlefield,” Jongdae scoffed. 

“I have a test!” His doe-eyes shot wide, the glitter in the dark irises displaying life while the dark bags underneath told another tale. 

“Alright enough,” Suho interrupted. “Everyone, do your homework. This weekend, we’ll clean out everything, and I don’t want whining from anyone.”

Chen started whining straight away. Suho sighed and retreated to his own room. Well, calling it his room served to be a stretch. Sharing a compact room with Kyungsoo proved difficult. The kid scared him. Save for on the battlefield, he hardly spoke, his gaze dark, low, and disturbing, leaving Suho wondering what he had done to upset the younger so badly. Jongin later informed him that their rookie was practically blind, and he hardly wore his contacts. Suho felt bad and bought him lunch. Still, his glare unsettled him. 

He sat down on the edge of his bunk, kicking his shoes off and throwing his stupid beret across the room. Whenever he summoned his powers, the outfit and damn hat showed up with it, no matter how many times he tried destroying it or throwing it out. He let his eyes slip shut, the fatigue rushing through his bones and yanking his shoulders into a slouch. He felt a warm light cross over his body, and in an instant, he sat in his regular dormitory clothing- a blue sweater, black drawstring sweats, and a bright beanie that hid his wild forest of curls. In his hands, as the light passed, lay a blue orb. Weighty and polished, the orb rested in his hands as a burden- a physical reminder of his responsibility to his brothers and the world- his responsibility to Baekhyun. 

He placed the orb on the bed beside him and stood, heaving his backpack from the floor to the top of his desk, flicking on the lamp to cast a harsh, yellow glare across the polished wood top. Scavenging through the mess of papers within his backpack, he pried free his Psychology homework and threw it across the desk, several pencils scattering to the floor.

When he first enrolled, he took a blind, straight line to his Psychology major. The way people thought and acted interested him to no end: what made people tick, what drove them too far. As a freshman, he flew through each and every pre-requisite course as if he were gliding across water, the liquid propelling him forward, embracing him and protecting him with each slight stumble. Now, with the weight of the world and eight-no, six- other lives resting upon his shoulders, he hardly focused on his studies. He never had the time. 

Suho sighed and flipped open his binder and textbook. The words and complex theories glared at him, taunting and baiting him into a fight he knew he’d lose- a fight against himself as self-doubt tugged at his ankles, a familiar pull that nagged at him until he caved and he slipped under the edge. Last time he had slipped-

“Jummyeon?” 

He spun in his chair, jerking at the voice. In the doorway stood Jongin, wearing a white tank top and sweats. His hair, disheveled and tangled, flopped across his sweaty brow, the usual color dusting his cheeks muted to an ashen pale. 

“Come in,” he said. “Jongin, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, hyung.” He flashed him a signature, crooked grin. It looked sad and painful across such pained features. “Just took a hit in the fight.”

“Why don’t you just have Yixi-”

Jongin straightened up, arm draped across his middle. He looked down. “I almost said the same thing.”

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” Jongin said. “We all miss them. Sometimes I forget they’re not here.” 

Suho shook his head. He couldn’t keep messing up like this. He wasn’t sure how, but Baekhyun’s and Yixing’s disappearance was fresh, crimson blood staining his hands. He was their leader, their sworn protector, but Baekhyun and Yixing were the ones who ended up saving him.   
And now the entire team was in shambles.

“Hyung, stop. You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened to them.” Jongin took a pause. “Hell, we don’t even know what happened to them. We don’t know where they went.”

“You know…” Suho struggled to swallow. “Kyungsoo, the rookie, approached me the other day.”

 

“You’re not still scared of the kid are you?” he teased.

“No!” Suho stood from his chair. “But he told me it would be in the team’s best interest if we were to stop looking for them.”

Jongin had no, his lips flapping like a beached fish, his stance in the doorway shifting to the left, his entire weight pitched against the frame. Silence fell between the two, draping over the room like an overweight blanket, its velvet trapping the heat inside. Suho wanted to bunch up the blanket, shred it, throw it out, anything he could do to get rid of the suffocating atmosphere he manifested.

“He said that?”

 

“He’s technically right,” he sighed. “I don’t want to give up the search. He knows we don’t. But for the purpose we have with these orbs, orbs Baekhyun gave us, we cannot focus on them.”

 

“They’re our friends, Jummyeon!” 

“I know, Jongin.” Suho lowered his palms, eyes burning with crystals that formed at the crests of his eye, bunching at the corners. “I know.”

“Then what’s the problem? Why do you seem like you agree with Kyungsoo?”

“Because in some way,” he said. “I agree. These robots will not stop coming for us. You of all of us should know that the more that we beat, the more that come and the smarter they are. We need all our focus on beating these robots and putting a stop to them before we can investigate Baekhyun’s and Yixing’s disappearance.”

Jongin puffed and suddenly, they were nose to nose. Jongin’s eyes widened in surprise, and Suho felt his knuckles curl tighter around his biceps. His eyes burned and burned, and he was sure there was a fire spindling behind them. His eyelids fluttered, trying to bat the flames away until he felt the lava leak from his irises, pooling down his cheeks and burning the skin. He didn’t like the heat.

“Hyung.” Jongin’s voice shattered like a vase upon cement. “You’re crying.”

 

Suho reached up to his cheeks. Instead of the molten lava he expected, his fingers came back damp with salty, warm tears, the dampness invisibly against his skin. He turned away, his fingers curling around the sides of his face as his hair shadowed his gaze. There were hands on his back, pulling and tugging, until he found himself buried into Jongin’s chest, entire body shaking as unrelenting sobs rattled throughout his body. 

He refused to allow his teammates get hurt again. Today, with Jongin nearly being killed by a robot, he realized how fragile the existence of his brothers were- how fragile the world itself was without the presence of their powers. When half the team was distracted with finding their lost members, the other half risked their lives fighting a robot that only grew stronger against the entire group. Without everyone’s focus on the immediate threat, they wouldn’t live long enough to see Baekhyun or Yixing again. 

Suho was one of those people, he realized.   
He hardly spent time on the battlefield, not since they lost them. He spent their hours in their superhero form trying to find any data or information he could on the lost members. Because he was the reason they were lost.

“I failed them.” He was sure of it. The fabric of Jongin’s shirt soaked up his tears. “I failed them both, I failed the team.”

Jongin’s arms around him froze. “Jummyeon, you and I both know that’s not true.”

“If it wasn’t true, why aren’t they here?” Suho snapped, throwing Jongin’s arms off of him and staggering back, his chest tight and heaving. “Why aren’t they here, Jongin? Why can’t I find them?”

 

“Jummyeon-hyung! We’ve got to get to classes this morning!”

 

Suho stirred with a miserable groan, his head pounding and heavy. He struggled to sit upright, the elephant of dread and anxiety sitting on his chest, pulling him deeper and deeper into the mattress until he hoped he’d disappear.

“Jummyeon?” Minseok poked his head in, hair already washed and combed back. He stepped inside. “C’mon, you and I have an eight o’clock lecture today.”

“I’m not going.”

“One.”

“I’m not a kid, Minseok, counting won’t work with me.”

“Two.”

 

“Seriously?” Suho groaned.

“Three.” He held up three fingers.

“Alright, alright, fine,” he said. He rolled from the bed, slipping his beanie over his massive mess of bed-head. 

Minseok stepped outside, satisfied to see Suho awake and moving. Suho, though, perched at the edge of the bed as soon as Minseok shut the door. He held his face in his hands, his skin hot to the touch. He fumbled for his glasses atop his nightstand, unfolding them and slipping them onto the bridge of his nose.   
Slipping on his favorite blue sweater and a pair of jeans, Suho shoved all his scattered papers- abandoned from last night- back into his backpack. He staggered to his bathroom, flicking the light on, only to bow his head to avoid his reflection in the mirror. He brushed his teeth. 

He was the leader.

They counted on him.

“Shit!”

The shout shuddered through the thin walls of the bathroom adjacent to the main living space. Jummyeon froze.

“Help!”

His toothbrush clattered into the skin as he sprinted from the bathroom, feet skidding across the hardwood floor, nearly sailing him right into the next room. 

“What’s going on?”

 

Inside the main living area, Jongdae and Kyungsoo sat, still wearing the pajamas, in front of the TV, their bodies practically draped over each other as they fought over a videogame.  
Jongdae had been the one screaming. The two turned to look at him, startled. 

 

“You have toothpaste on your face, hyung,” Jongdae snickered. 

He furiously wiped at his cheek. “We fight giant robots now, you can’t just scream help in the middle of the dorm. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“That’s what makes you a good mom, Suho.” He wanted to punch Jongdae’s smile- an equal split between mischievous and genuine.

“Yes,” Kyungsoo followed. “We’re sorry for scaring you.”

Suho nodded and retreated back to his room, unsettled. 

 

“Sigmund Freud basically proved in his writing…”

Suho learned to tune out his moral ethics teacher, her voice shrill, delivering boring and redundant information each class. Without studying, the class came easy, so he found no reason in paying attention, nor could he pay attention to a single word spoken as he could only think of the dark blue orb burning a hole through his backpack beside him. He had to carry it around at all times, he learned, which deemed inconvenient as he couldn’t fold it up into his wallet.

It’s constant presence beside him in class disturbed him. He could hear its defiant whispers attacking him, hissing seeds of self-doubt and failure. Suho didn’t know why he was chosen to be the leader. Minseok was older than him, further along in earning his PhD (he didn’t understand how the latter could handle super-hero life and earning his PhD). The other members were more skilled with their powers- others were more confident.   
Chanyeol was by far the most powerful of all of them. His power was given the most direct indication to kill- to destroy. Suho offered nothing but random psychology facts and a glass of water. 

The whisperings of his orb only grew louder, its voice lowering in pitch and altering, its distortion sending his heart plummeting to his gut. He’s coming, it said.

The far left wall of the lecture hall exploded into a great ball of fire and ash, the bricks crumbling and splitting in tons of pieces, the debris scattering into the classroom and crashing against innocent skulls. Suho covered his head with his arms, shocked as the fire bringing down the wall kissed at his arms, burning the skin, embers circling around his head, filling the room with suffocating layers of ash, soot, and smoke. 

Chanyeol, Suho instinctively thought.

But not, among the wreckage and clearing smoke, stood the silhouette of yet another robot, it’s shape now sharp at the top edges curling into devilish horns, the red eye now overtaking most of its center, bearing through the room as the lights flickered and cut out. Suho grabbed for his back, feeling the orb’s heat through the fabric of the backpack. He snatched it from his bag and took a sprint toward the door, the familiar and nightmarish whirring of that nasty, talon-like claw creeping closer behind him. The screams of his classmates and professor burned at his ears, hurting more than the scalding of his forearms ever could.

As he reached the door, fist wrapped around the handle, the strong metal jaw snapped around his waist. It jerked him back through soot and ash. He dropped his orb, it’s usual glow flickering to a dull shine.


	3. III. Jongdae

III. Jongdae

He decided to skip class that day. 

Instead, he sat on the couch, legs kicked out over the arm, and played video games, tongue slipped past his lips as he focused on the flashing lights and firing guns on the small screen. 

“Don’t you have Chemistry today?” 

Jongdae looked up to meet Minseok’s incredulous glare. 

“Technically, yes,” he said. “But am I going? No.”

 

“Can I ask why?”

Jongdae pursed his lips and paused his video game. “I’m tired.”

Minseok didn’t say anything else, looking down at Jongdae with an unreadable look flickering in his eyes. He stepped away from the couch and stepped into the kitchen, clattering of pots and pans ringing throughout the small living space.

Jongdae resumed his game, spamming his thumb against the triggers. “What are you doing?”

“Making breakfast, what else?” Minseok snorted. “If I don’t, you’ll end up eating something disgusting.”

“Poptarts are not disgusting!” 

Jongdae heard Minseok give a snort of a laugh, the chinking of pots continuing to stab at his ears. A soft chuckle slipped past his own lips as he halfheartedly fought the aliens in his video game, spinning to the right, firing his gun and mowing them down one by one. He was back on the battlefield, pulse-rifle in hand, back pressed against a crumble cement wall. He rolled out from behind it, perching himself up on one knee and aiming his rifle down the sight- the crosshair focused on the robot, its red eye blaring a blanket of crimson over him. He fired shot after shot, pulses diving into a smooth, stainless metal. A sinister shriek pounced Jongdae, snarling in his ear and baring its teeth against his bare neck as the robot writhed and broke down into bits of molten metal.

His brothers stood behind him, all sporting injuries, their arms and legs adorned in bandages, Kai hanging lifelessly between Suho and Sehun, whose face was marred with a giant gash across his left cheek, the skin above his eyebrow split open, blood sullying his cheek. Minseok could hardly stand, his ankle bent at a sickening angle. Twelve eyes stared at him, glittering with crystals, fear pouring from them in knotted brows and twitching lips. 

They looked to him. He’d save them.

“Jongdae!” 

He jerked, his game blaring “Game Over” in a booming motorized voice, the mocking words flashing across the skin in blaring red blocks, its crimson glow taunting him- the robot was in front of him, the scarlet eye shrieking. His brothers lay dead, their bodies seeping a red darker than any he had ever seen. He was pinned down, the metallic claw pulling at his gut and stirpping away the glowing orb hidden away in his jacket. Powerless. He thrashed and fought, his arms trying to grab the only thing that gave him the ability to save his brothers- to save the world. He felt his bones crack under the tremendous force sitting on top of him, pressing him against the cement until he saw dark splotches overtaking the edges of his vision. It’s eye glowered down at him, blinding him with the light. Red. All he could see was red.

“Jongdae!”

“What? I heard you the first time!”

 

“No, you didn’t.” Minseok stood behind him, apron tied taut around his waist, plates balancing in his hands. His eyebrows were drawn together in a tight stitch. Jongdae looked down at his ankle. It was fine. “Are you...having your visions again?”

Jongdae’s heart fell into his gut, and he could feel it hammering throughout his entire body, sending him into a spiral of tremors. “No.”

 

Minseok hummed, the edge of his lip curled. Jongdae looked back to his game, the piercing gaze burning into his back enough to confirm his doubt that Minseok saw right through him like a piece of parchment paper. Minseok knew him better than anyone.

Silently, he took a seat beside him on the couch, slipping a plate of fried eggs and buttered toast into his lap. Jongdae felt the hammering of his heart soften to a soft but painful throb in his chest. The game’s ‘GAME OVER’ menu looped over and over, the daunting voice booming from the TV set every ten seconds, causing Jongdae to nearly choke on his first bite of toast. 

“Thanks for the breakfast,” he spoke through his bread, gnawing on the crust as he glanced over to Minseok.

“You’re welcome, Jongdae.”

The two finished their breakfast in silence. 

When Minseok stood to take their plates, Jongdae held onto his firmly. He stood before him, eyebrows knotted in bewilderment. “What is it?”

Jongdae released a shaking breath, staring at the ‘Game Over’ screen, his knuckles white around the edges of the plate. “Where are they?”

 

Silence. Minseok hesitated. “So you are seeing it again.”

“I never stopped,” he said. 

Jongdae felt the cushion beside him sink. He tightened the grip of his fingers on the plate, the pads of his fingers blanched. A hand grazed across his back. He shut his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What’s the point in telling you?”

 

“What’s the point in keeping it bottled up, Jongdae?”

 

“Please don’t call me that!”

The hand on his back stopped, and the cushion shifted. He opened his eyes to see Minseok kneeling in front of him, his small hands folded over Jongdae’s, easing his fingers from the death-grip around the plate. His hands were smooth and cold compared to Jongdae’s, which were littered with callouses and jittery with caffeine.

“Look,” he began. His voice was smooth, and soft, and Jongdae recognized the voice before.

Baekhyun was terrified, they all could see that. His hands were trembling around his orb, which flickered like a strobe light, nearly blinding all eight of them. Jongdae had noticed how delicate his hands were in that moment, nimble, thin, and shaking as they struggled to keep a solid hold on the hot, glowing orb of light. 

“What was that thing?” he stammered. He missed that voice. “What is happening?”

“We don’t know, Baek.” Minseok stepped up, placing both hands on his shoulders, and jerking his body so their eyes met. Baekhyun’s were wide and glinting with tears. Jongdae wanted to hug him, but he was trapped at his ankles with terror and confusion.  
Minseok’s voice was comforting, like a blanket of warmth wrapping around Baekhyun’s shoulders.  
“We don’t know what’s going on, but it’s wonderful,” he said. “You did this, Baekhyun. I don’t know how, but you did.”

Jongdae blinked. 

“None of us are okay after what happened, Jongdae.” Minseok kept his hands over his own, massaging at his knuckles. . “You don’t have to pretend that you are. You don’t have to be strong.”

“I’m not...pretending,” he murmured.

“Then why haven’t you told me you’re having flashbacks again?”

Jongdae gnawed at his lower lip. The flashbacks had gotten better, at least once he got back into the rhythm of classes- spending his hours cramming for Chemistry 102 restraining his mind from running amuck and reliving the terror and guilt that plagues him every minute. However, after yesterday, he tossed and turned all night, his entire mind basked in crimson and remembering a light he extinguished forever.

“I don’t know, Minseok,” he said. “I’m tired of it. Just… Where are they?”  
“You can’t blame yourself.”

“I never said I-“

“You don’t have to,” Minseok said. “I know you blame yourself for Yixing and Baekhyun.”

“Please, don’t…”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Minseok interjected. “Not anymore. We need to stay united, especially if we’re going to find them.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I’m the reason they’re gone.” Jongdae felt his eyes begin to burn: a sensation foreign and terrifying to him. 

He writhed, and pried his hands from Minseok’s, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. He willed the hot tears away, but behind his pressed eyelids, he saw Baekhyun, his face vibrant and lips pulled taut into an intoxicatingly stunning grin. Yixing had his arm draped around his brother’s neck, eyes and nose scrunched in laughter at whatever dumb joke came blundering from Baekhyun’s mouth. The tears slipped past the pressure of his palms and streaked down his cheeks. His throat seared with withheld lava that burned and scarred his throat, struggling to come up as he fought it down into submission. Eventually, the sob caught in his throat and released in a blubbering gasp, his entire frame wracking and breaking into tremors. He dug his palms even further against his face as if the pressure alone could end the endless onslaught of his tears. 

Hands wrapped around his trembling shoulders, and those hands pressed him tight against a small yet comforting chest. Minseok whispered incoherent words of comfort into his hair, tucking Jongdae’s head beneath his chin and holding him as if Jongdae were a priceless vase- his seams and glass edges cracking against a cement ground. Minseok was the glue struggling to put him back together as he crumbled right in his fingers.  
The whisperings never stopped. The hands remained strong and locked around his shoulders, and Minseok’s lips decorated his scalp with brief dusts of kisses and soft words. His body quivering too heavily to fight any longer, Jongdae dropped his hands from his face and let them weakly wrap around Minseok’s middle, his tears openly gliding over the crests of his cheeks. His eyes, puffy and red-rimmed, struggled to stay open, Minseok’s cooing and slight rocking of his body lulling him into exhaustion. 

“Just go to sleep,” he said.

Jongdae couldn’t find it in himself to argue.

\----------------------

“Chen! Xiumin! It’s go time!”

Jongdae snorted awake, his eyes swollen shut from his hour of crying. As he jerked upright, chest heaving in surprise and panic, he noticed Minseok’s arms were still locked around him, the latter sleeping beside him on the couch. Heat pooled into his cheeks as he wrenched the arms off him. He wiped at his eyes and looked up to see Sehun. The younger wore his battle outfit- his eyes vibrant with the slight glint they all had when their orbs were activated. He stood in the doorway, brow tensed and arms outstretched, the door slammed against the wall. 

Jongdae blinked. 

“What?”

“A new robot showed up,” he said, storming forward so he looked at Jongdae from behind the couch. Jongdae moved to force Minseok awake. The latter had always been a heavy sleeper. 

“Suho’s been attacked.”

He didn’t think he ever saw the younger this serious, his chiseled features set in marble, unwavering, and as intimidating as the statues of perfection displayed along museum walls.  
Jongdae felt his blood ran cold. Minseok stirred beside him. 

“Attacked?” he groaned as he roused from his sleep, sitting upright with his eyes lidded and dark.

Sehun stomped his foot, storming in front of them to grasp at Minseok’s shoulders. “Yes,  
attacked! Now, get your orbs! I already got Kyungsoo and Kai at the ready.”

Suddenly, Minseok was awake, grappling for Jongdae’s wrist and pulling him to the room that they shared. Jongdae had no choice but to follow, his ankles heavy underneath his weight, his exhaustion creeping up his legs in dark, thick tendrils that grasped at his calves and dragged him further into the ground. The released anxiety returned to his shoulders, sitting burdensome across them and nagging for his attention as he rummaged through his sock drawer for his orb.

“You’re hiding your orb in your sock drawer?” Baekhyun laughed.  
“Hey! It’s not like any of you are brave enough to go in there,” he said. “No one will think to look for my super powers hidden in a sock drawer.”

“No one would think you’re that dumb, Jongdae.”  
“Hey!” Jongdae punched Baekhyun in the shoulder, the smile across his face impossible to resist as his friend shrieked and scurried from his room. He called after him. “At least I’ll never forget where it is!”

Jongdae pulled the golden orb from the drawer before sliding it shut, balancing it in his flattened palm. Minseok did the same, his orb a striking blue. 

“Ready?”

“Gotta be.”

Jongdae shut his eyes, a fuzzy, numbing, golden blanket wrapping around him. His nerves jolted as lightning shuddered throughout his entire body, a storm swelling to a dangerous crescendo inside of him as the orb in his hand dissolved into a golden dust, his skin glowing. The rain roared in his ears in time with the throbbing of his heart, the eye of the storm around his navel as the rest of his body rippled with the storm’s torment. Thunder claps jolted throughout his entire body, pounding in his fingertips and toes as lightning struck, the edges of his hair singing and his lips shaking like mad. The storm tore him apart layer by layer, only to refortify his skin with strengthened layers of steel. Electricity danced across his skin.  
As the golden mist dissolved, Jongdae’s orb was gone from his hand, and his pajamas were gone, replaced with a plain white shirt and green artillery jacket. Minseok stood beside him, his skin still radiating a dull arctic blue. He met his gaze. 

Without exchanging any other words, power and strength surging through their veins and tingling behind the pads of their fingers and their palms, they ran from their room, Sehun taking the lead as they tore from the dorm. The video game continued to blare from the TV, the empty, metallic voice chanting “Game Over” over and over again, fading into the distance as Jongdae sprinted down the hall.  
Nothing compared to the power high Jongdae received each time his orb dissolved into his skin, the most dangerous aspects of nature themselves dancing across his skin, lightning rapidly firing throughout his body, shocking him with intense bouts of indescribable power that burned at his hands. As they ran, ducking down the staircase to avoid other students, Jongdae extended his palm, small, golden bolts dancing across the skin and curling around his knuckles like exquisite, priceless jewelry: jewelry he would not have if it weren’t for him. 

“How did Suho get cornered like that?”

Minseok and Sehun were running ahead of him. 

“He was in class. The robot exploded the east side of the building.”

Jongdae swallowed. “Is he alright? Where is he?”

“He’s hurt, and his orb is gone. He can’t change.”

He didn’t know what he would do if he ever lost his orb. Since he first cradled it in his hands, the warmth and electricity around it shocking and tickling his skin, Jongdae knew he could never be without it. With the power of the orb coursing through his veins, he had the power to be who he wanted to be. He had the power to protect his brothers, and all others he cared for. With the orb, he was someone other than a college student with no clear major in mind. With the orb, he was Chen, a comedic boy of confidence and suave. He was no longer Jongdae- crippled with anxiety and self-doubt. 

With or without the orb, Jongdae was the same at the base. Underneath Chen, there was still Jongdae. Under the layers of steel and electricity hid someone afraid and guilty- someone too scared to act, too scared to fight. 

“Here.”

They rounded the corner of their dormitory building, the Psychology building just across the square. From where he stood, Chen saw the destruction. The entire front side of the building was reduced to rubble, bricks, steel beams, and frayed industrial wiring lying in giant heaps of piling debris. Students came crawling from the wreckage, others running screaming from an undestroyed entrance from the back. Firefighters, policemen, and bystanders gathered by the wreckage, the screaming loud, but not enough to conceal the sound of alien gun-fire and a familiar whirring that sent Chen’s stomach rocketing up into his throat. He sputtered and choked, left in the dust as Minseok and Sehun ran straight for the wreckage, ducking and hiding in the giant clouds of dust that rolled from the building, concealing them from prying eyes. 

Chen followed close behind. 

“Kai! Do something!”

He slipped in a small hole in the wreckage- the large lecture hall filled with smoke and basked in a crimson light. Chen couldn’t tell where the robot was. 

“Sehun! On your right!”

He cried out as a giant mass flew by his vision and crashed into a row of desks beside him. He turned, and saw Sehun sprawled on top of shattered and cracked desktops, his eyes drawn shut. He turned to help him, his blood rushing in his ears like the deafening crash of a tsunami wave. He knelt beside his comrade, hands fluttering as he tugged at the collar of his shirt, where blood gathered, a thin line dwindling down Sehun’s cheek from his temple. 

“Chen, go,” he pleaded, shoving his hands away. He sat up, craning his neck. “Suho needs us. Go.”

 

Chen stared at him, eyes wide. He heard his brothers fighting behind him, and he turned on his heel, running through the smoke, closer towards the blinding crimson light. His hands began to tingle, and suddenly, he wielded his own rifle, the stock held tightly in his hand. As he ran, he was finally able to make out the egg-shape of the robot through the heavy smoke. He turned up his rifle, firing blind blasts toward the outline. 

The lanky, metallic claw arm snaked from the smoke and appeared in front of him, snapping at the air in front of him, blindly grasping for him. Chen shot at the arm, only for the bullets to ricochet from the metal. Expected.

He tossed aside the gun. It would only reappear at his disposal later. He pressed his palms flat together, the room’s smoke darkening and storm clouds circling and forming above them, the flat surface a space gray that hung heavy over the entire devastated lecture hall. The clouds began to rumble, and Chen shoved his hands down, kneeling on one knee to shove his hands on the ground. A thunder clap rippled through the entire room, and the debris under the robot’s weight began to shift, the sharp, clawed feet losing their footing and getting caught in a pile of bricks. Chen’s veins inflamed, the power pouring through them as adrenaline pumped throughout his entire body. Each sensation was heightened as, along with the rippling thunder, strokes of lightning jutted down upon it’s body, the metal denting and abrupting with black, charred spots. 

Chen spotted Kyungsoo creeping behind the robot, his eyes a bright purple that rivaled the red that reflected from the smoke and poured all over the room. He lifted his foot, stomping it, the sound lost in the air, only for the ground to split from underneath it, earth splitting and swallowing up the entirety of the debris, dragging the robot down along with it. In an attempt to catch itself, the robot flung out its claw. Chen’s breath heaved from his lungs as the thick-set metal plowed into his side. He flew back. He felt like he was flying. 

Jongdae wasn’t Chen. He wished he was, he truly did. He wished he could live with a gun slung against his hip and an honest cocky smirk plastered across his face. He wished he could be the hero his brothers, hopefully, knew him to be- the hero that Baekhyun hoped he would be.  
Chen was a construction of Jongdae’s insecurities- an identity that left him cheering and joking before his enemies while his brothers panicked and scrambled. In the face of this danger, Jongdae would crumple, seek to hide behind Kai or Sehun’s broad shoulders. Jongin was Kai. Junmyeon was Suho. They all fit whatever their orbs created them to be- the hero it construted. 

Jongdae was nothing.

He his head snapped back against the wall, his vision going black.

“Jongdae!”


	4. VI. Chanyeol

VI. Chanyeol

 

_ “Hey, Chanyeol.”  _

_ He looked up and saw him, his eyes crinkled and bright, his smile broad across his cheeks. Chanyeol mimicked the smile, the happiness seeping from the latter’s bones contagious.  _

_ “Baekhyun. How are you?” _ _   
_

_ The smaller stood there, rolling his ankle and fidgeted with his hands behind his back. He gnawed on his lower lip, looking small and defenseless. Chanyeol wanted to hug him, and beat up whatever was bothering him. Hesitant, Baekhyun pulled out the chair across from Chanyeol and sat across from him, the broad, faux-wooden table separating them across a great distance.  _

_ Baekhyun released a breath, settling his hands on the table. “Do you think there’s more out there, Chanyeol?” he asked. _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ He shifted in his chair, fluttering his hands in the way he always did when he was anxious. Chanyeol frowned. “Baekhyun, what do you mean by that? Is something wrong?” _ _   
_

_ “No, I just…” Baekhyun trailed off, his eyes painfully empty. “I wonder if there’s anything past us. Anything  _ greater...” 

_ “We are only freshmen in college, Baek-” _

_ “I know!” he said. “I know, I just can’t help but think we’re meant for something else. That we’re not necessarily supposed to be here.” _

_   
_ _ Chanyeol laughed. “So, what? You believe in aliens now?” _ __   
  


_ “Chanyeol!” He loved when Baekhyun whined. “You’re not taking me seriously.” _

_ “I’m kidding,” he said. “I don’t...understand what you’re getting at, but I guess it makes sense. Maybe you’re destined to cure cancer or something.” _

_   
_ _ Baekhyun scowled. “No, not me,” he said. “All of us; The nine of us are meant for something bigger than this.” _

_ Chanyeol looked at him with consideration, his arms crossed across his chest. Baekhyun’s features were soft, yet troubled, his eyebrows drawn together across his sweaty brow, his dark bangs hanging in his face in thick strands, hiding the worry glazing over his eyes.  _

_ “Where is this coming from?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I had a dream-” _ __   


_ “You have a lot of dreams, Baekhyun.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “None like this,” he said, jaw set and knuckles white. “This one was different. I know it.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “You’re just stressed for midterms.” _ __   


_ “Don’t brush me off, Chanyeol.” _

_   
_ _ Baekhyun’s sadness switched to frustration quickly, standing from his chair and pouting. “We’re meant for something, Chanyeol. I don’t know what. I don’t know why. But we are. You’ll see.” _

_ It wasn’t until months later that Chanyeol realized Baekhyun was right.  _   
  


“Jongdae!” He cried as he saw the latter snap against the wall like a rag doll, his spine seemingly crumpled as his entire body slumped at the base. Chanyeol felt his insides crawl with enraged flames of red, the anger manifesting upon his palms and melting him from the inside. He thought he  _ had _ it, the flames controlling the damn robot as it flailed and struggled for freedom, yet he hadn’t perceived the robot’s range. He didn’t perceive a lot of things.

Red. Fire. Red. Fire. It danced in his eyes as he watched the robot sink in the deep ravine below, the ground splitting as ends of the grass curled and the dirt and rock beneath the surface split, the jagged ends like spears or javelins. Red. Fire. Pain. 

Everything hurt. The ground closed up over the robot’s head, the grass and soil mending, flowers sprouting along the ragged seam. They all stood, silence falling upon the destroyed room. Xiumin sobbed.

“Guys! He’s hurt, we need to get him to the hospital!”   
  
Chanyeol didn’t turn. He stared at a particular flower along the ground, the grass slowly mending beneath it. It was dainty, its petals white with tender dusts of yellow as if each small canvas was delicately hand-painted. He reached out and grazed the sides of the petals with his forefinger, the delicacy tickling at his skin, and Chanyeol swore he never felt anything so soft. The petals curled against his skin, and Chanyeol took it by the fragile base: a small green tether tying it to the grass. He pulled it from its neck, standing up to cradle the disjointed flower head in his palm, the tiny bud insignificant against his broad palm. The flower glared at him, its soft petals once serene now gleaming with contempt. Chanyeol ruined it, pulled it from its source of life, the withered stem now left in the grass with no beauty to provide. Chanyeol took the beauty out of a lot of things.

“Chanyeol, what are you waiting for?” Minseok said. He was still crying. “Let’s go!”

“We can’t go to a hospital,” he said. 

“What the hell, Chanyeol?” Minseok furiously wiped at his eyes which were rimmed a bright red that almost rivaled Chanyeol’s eye- he could see the reflection of his iridescent eye in the glare of Minseok’s tears. “Why not? He’s hurt.”

Pain. Chanyeol knew. He knew how dangerous it was to leave such a terrible head wound untreated. Jongdae bled everywhere, hues of crimson seeping into the collar of his shirt, staining a crisp white to a sinister red, the blood creeping down his entire chest and crawling along the length of his torso. Smears curled around Jongdae’s temples and jawline, tracing each curve and edge perfectly. Chanyeol wanted to vomit at the sight. He tightened his fist around the flower, and bit back an angered cry as he could hear the petals crumbling beneath his fingers, rolling the delicate petals into useless flakes. He let the fall to the ground in a flurry. 

**Chanyeol wanted the others out of the way.** All that mattered before was the team and their sole purpose. Classes and outside friendships took the back burner, and all nine boys set their hearts onto what the orbs destined for them. What  _ Baekhyun  _ destined for them. Without Baekhyun and Yixing, the team was falling apart into shambles, just as the delicate flower crumpled within his hands. That fragile stem, the anchor for such an exquisite fragment of nature, kept the entire flower grounded. Yixing and Baekhyun, they found out too late, were the stem, yet Baekhyun was also the petals: the beauty and worth within such a tiring and confusing circumstance. Chanyeol wanted them out of the way, because when their two friends disappeared, so did the base of the team. Now, they fall apart in front of tasks so simple if only the nine orbs were reunited. The others gave up the search. They only obscured  _ Chanyeol’s  _ endgame: find Baekhyun, restore order, restore happiness. He wanted to bring back the light.    
  


If only the others hadn’t been so naive.    
  


“We don’t know what doctors can find,” he said. “What happened to trying to keep our identities a secret? We’re not very good at it.”

“You’re the one who won’t adopt a secret identity!”

“I don’t need one.” Chanyeol swallowed. “We don’t need any.”

A name meant nothing but a few syllables strung together to identify. It holds no connotation except for the one the holder gives. The actions of a person, what they stand for, what they do, serve more as criteria to be graded than a name. As heroes, they didn’t need these other names. As college students, they did. In school, they’d lie, make false promises, and use words to evade actions, but with the power of orbs pulsating through their veins, they had to act. Their names meant nothing as they absorbed their power into their skin. Baekhyun believed in actions and meaningful words. He also believed in names. He also refused to adopt a pseudonym for himself once they obtained their orbs. However, to Baekhyun, he wasn’t any different between his college student self and heroic self. Baekhyun had always been a light, his power only an external exemplification of such. He was always strong and bright, always using action to express his needs, desires and concerns. Chanyeol didn’t. Before, he never acted, only hid behind empty vessels of emotion and promise, too petrified to pursue much of anything past his friendships with the other boys, and his lack of action then even drove a wedge between them. 

_ “I’ll call myself Xiumin!” _

_ “Ooh! What about Chen?”  _

_ Chanyeol watched Baekhyun from where he sat on the other side of the couch. He seemed the least stressed about their sudden change, surely because he was the reason for such a miracle.  _

_ They had talked for hours within their dorm, half of them living down at the time, only to spend every waking moment in Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Yixing’s dorm, especially every Friday for pizza night.  _

_ After a boisterous night of recounting their first fight against the robot, they began to turn in one by one until the three of them remained.  _

_ “I’ve always wanted to be called Lay,” Yixing snorted as he dozed off on the couch. “That’ll be my name.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Chanyeol turned expectantly to Baekhyun. _ _   
_ _   
_ __ “What about you, Baekhyunee?”

_ “I don’t need a fake name, Chanyeol,” he said, scratching at the underside of his jaw. _

_ Chanyeol blinked. “It’s not a fake name, more of… a secret identity!” _ _   
_ _   
_ __ “My identity couldn’t be a secret even if I tried,” he laughed. “This...doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change who we are. Jongdae’s the same old goofball, Minseok’s still a worried parent with Jumnyeon. Sehun’s still the kid. None of us are any different. Maybe our abilities have changed. But we’re still the same lost college kids deep down.”

_ “You’re taking the fun out of being a superhero,” Chanyeol pouted, eliciting a laugh from Baekhyun.  _

_   
_ _ Baekhyun shrugged with a light, playful grin. “Sorry, Yeol, but I’m just telling you what I think. If we end up actually making a difference, why hide who we really are?”  _

_ “Did you get Sehun on board with this philosophy?” he teased. “He refused to pick one too.” _ _   
_ _   
_ __ “No. Sehun just couldn’t think of one. He tried playing it off cool.”

Chanyeol smiled at the memory.

“It doesn’t matter.” Suho rounded the corner, leaning on Sehun for support, his face marred with his own blood. Kyungsoo stepped up beside Sehun and helped support their leader’s weight. He looked over at Chanyeol, Minseok, and Jongdae. “We’re getting Jongdae to the hospital, and we’ll all wait for him to recover.”   
  
“Suho, you’re okay,” Kai said as he appeared beside them from wisps of Stygian blackness in mid-air. He stood in front of their leader, broad hands planted on his shoulders as he looked him up and down. He was wearing his pedestrian clothing. “Your orb. Where is it?” 

Suho’s face was pallor and sunken, his hair dangling against his forehead in strings. Blood coated the entirety of his left pant leg from the knee down. Chanyeol shifted, his foot working against the other abandoned flowers sprouted from the grass, grinding them to dust.

They all froze as their leader spoke. “RF_05 took it. It’s gone,” he said. “It’s not important. We need to get Jongdae to the hospital.”

“You too, Suho,” Sehun chided, his brow knotted, the distress radiating from him like an odor.  “You’re hurt.”

* * *

 

“How did you lose your orb?!” 

  
Sehun pressed his hand on Chanyeol’s chest, his eyes wide, angry, and rimmed with tears. “Chanyeol, stop it!” he said. “We can’t be fighting right now.”   
  
“We are already down two members.” Chanyeol swatted at Sehun’s hand. “If he hadn’t been so careless-”   
  
“I was attacked at  _ class,  _ Chanyeol,” Suho interjected. “It caught me off guard, and it got my orb, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get it back.”   
  


Chanyeol scowled, glancing past the glass doors leading into the emergency room. Before they began to fight, Sehun dragged both of them outside. The others, Minseok, Kyungsoo, and Jongin waited inside for news on Jongdae’s condition. 

“It shouldn't have happened at all,” he said under his breath.

“Stop that, Chanyeol,” Sehun said, still occupying the space between Chanyeol and Suho. “I know you’re mad. And I know we cause a lot of damage today at the school, but it’s nothing we can’t recover from. We need to stay  _ united.  _ You’re the only one that seems to have issues with that.” 

“He could’ve  _ died _ ,” he snapped. “I know you think I’m some villain to this team, but his stupidity got us and himself nearly killed!”

“He was  _ attacked..” _

“He wasn’t prepared.” Chanyeol clenched his jaw. “We used to be college students first. Now, we’re heroes first, students second.”

“Maybe to you,” Suho began.

“No, it’s not just me. This is what we were  _ meant  _ to do. There’s more than this college life you’re so stuck up in. There’s a bigger picture. Baekhyun gave it to us, so how could you disrespect him to throw it away?”

“Chanyeol-“

When Suho had emerged from the emergency room, his leg wrapped in bandages, arm pulled into a sling, and stitches lining his left temple, Chanyeol snapped. All he saw was red- a red so suffocating that he felt himself drowning beneath a thick sea of dread and terror. He saw smiles sewed together with frowns: a particular smile of thick rays of brightness dimmed behind a sheet of black. He saw Baekhyun, trapped in a dark, grimy well, struggling to keep his head up as oil crept up, tickling at his jawline. He gasped and cried, the light bursting from his palms flickering away to a mere glow. He was drowning. Everything hurt.

“I’m over this,” he growled as he stepped back through the double doors. He could feel Suho and Sehun’s eyes burning holes into his back as he left.

Inside the waiting room, Minseok sat, curled up in the uncomforting plastic chair. Kyungsoo was beside him, fitting his head into the slope of his neck, his own eyes exhausted. Chanyeol’s insides stung and crawl. He was drowning with Baekhyun.

* * *

 

“Easy now.”

Minseok and Kyungsoo helped Jongdae into the dormitory, his head heavily bandaged. With the disheartening news of a nasty concussion and cracked ribs, the doctors discharged him with the fair warning for him to get plenty of bed rest. 

Chanyeol knew he wasn’t being fair. He knew he was unjust in the way resentment and jealousy bubbled up inside of him and boiled his blood. If his red eye translated to his civilian form, he would be sure it would be glowing, his anger projecting through such a vivid hue of bright crimson. This jealousy shouldn’t exist, he thought. He was glad Jongdae made it back to them in one piece, even at the expense of a hefty hospital bill and invasive questions on the doctor's’ end. After all, he was his friend, no matter how his actions seemed to refute this.

All Chanyeol could do was bite back his jealousy- not for himself, but rather for  _ Baekhyun _ . He had no one to support him- wherever he went- and he hated how the others could  _ forget  _ about him and Yixing so easily. They had been an inseparable piece of the puzzle, yet the team had  _ stopped looking.  _ And every night, as Chanyeol tossed and turned from such vivid nightmares that they etched into his vision, he resented them for it even more. That’s why he had decided to barricade himself off: create an opportunity for him to go looking for his best friend, but after weeks turns into months and the case turned cold, Chanyeol found himself just as rejected as the others.

He watched bitterly as Jongdae sagged into the couch, his face knotted into a grimace. “It’s ok, guys,” he said. “I’ve had worse.”

Minseok tearfully laughed. “Sure, hot shot.” He brushed some hair from Jongdae’s bandaged forehead. “And don’t think  _ this  _ will get you out of homework, sir. I’ll pick up your work every day after classes.”

Jongdae groaned and slumped his head against the back of the couch, whining incoherently and allowing Sehun to prop his legs up on the coffee table, a throw pillow supporting his ankles. 

He turned his head. “What about you Suho? Are you alright?”

Their leader stood off to the side, his face pale and scraped, and arm still taut in the sling. “I’m fine,” he said. “I got off lucky, thanks to all of you.”

“We never leave a man behind,” Jongin said, stepping through the door lastly and shutting it behind him. The others all turned to face him.

Chanyeol wasn’t sure how he felt about Jongin; at first, he was a fun, high-spirited kid with a laugh of gold, but his orb changed him in ways both he and Baekhyun feared. He was colder, more calculated- as if the essence of his power absorbed into his being, altering his soul and blending him into a personified void- his presence a shimmering black. Chanyeol also saw the way he glanced at Suho behind his back, eyes heavy and narrowed, eyebrows furrowed as if the weight of the world rested upon them. 

Silence again fell upon them, and everyone moved to the couch and the floor, surrounding Suho and Jongdae in a protective, concerned circle. Chanyeol kept on the outskirts, looking over everyone with a resting scowl. The room was quiet, save for their soft musings of how they were going to repair the lecture hall, with Sehun quickly refuted. Chanyeol paid no mind to them. 

His entire body ached. Pain. Fear. The agony and fright crept at his fingertips in a frostbite numbness, and Chanyeol clenched his fist to make sure his fingers were still even there. He shivered, his heart racing in his chest and pounding at his ribcage. This was happening more and more.

He clutched at his chest through his sweatshirt, his eyes screwed shut as he struggled to catch his breath. Pain overtook him, jabbing at his chest before radiating throughout his entire torso, electric shocks dancing all over his skin. He felt needles poking and prodding at his skin, pinning him down like a bug jabbed on the edge of a pin, squirming for freedom and relief. Every nerve ending in his body screamed in white-hot agony that ripped through his entire body and tore at his flesh. The agony rushed up to his shoulders and neck faster than he could blink, the electricity wrapping around his neck in tendrils, and Chanyeol couldn’t open his eyes to see if Jongdae had decided to turn on him. 

The blackness behind his eyelids faded to a dull yet sinister crimson, as if blood began to seep behind his eyelids, flooding whatever vision remained from his pain-induced coma. He felt disconnected from his body, the cold slimy sensation of blood running down his sides and his face, yet nothing was there, his entire body trembling, yet he had no control of his muscles. Ghosted hands tugged at the hem of his hoodie, poking into his side and grabbing onto his neck, jerking him from side to side, flaring the agony sparking throughout his entire body. 

He begged for it to stop, but the voice slipping past bloodied and chapped lips was not his own.

  
_ “Stop!” He cried. “Please!” _

It wasn’t his voice. It wasn’t his voice. 

All at once, as quick as it came, the pain disappeared into a numbing mist. 

 

**“Chanyeol!”**

 

When he opened his eyes, his body numb and quivering, he was on the ground, Jongin, Sehun, Kyungsoo, and Suho leaning over him, their eyes wide and faces knotted. Chanyeol could barely make out their features, his vision blurred and dancing with black and white spots. He could still hear the foreign cries ringing in his ears, and he could feel the ghost hands lingering over him,  weighing his body down. 

More tangible hands grabbed at his shoulders, jerking his body side to side. Chanyeol bit his tongue and pried the hands from his body, his fingers trembling as he tried to grasp the foreign hands. 

“What happened?”

“I didn’t see him get hurt in the fight-”   
  
“Maybe it’s his orb!”   
  
“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Guys, he’s waking up!”

The assault of overlapping voices against his throbbing skull nearly drove him insane. A rough groan slipped past his lips as he allowed his body to slump against the floor, his eyes fluttering shut as the world around him spun too quickly. 

“Chanyeol.” He felt someone lean down beside him. Suho. “Are you hurt?”   
  
He cursed, forcing his eyes back open. “No,” he said, his entire body weak and heavy. “What…What happened?”   


“You collapsed,” his leader said, his voice quiet and gentle. “You started convulsing. You don’t remember anything?”   
  
Chanyeol struggled to gather his thoughts. Everything in his brain jumped around, completely scattered, but every fragmented thought and expression came back to one thing: fear and pain.

“I was so scared,” he gasped, and Chanyeol struggled to blink back the onslaught of tears burning at his eyes. “He’s so scared.”   
  
“Who’s scared, Chanyeol?” Suho touched his shoulder. 

“I heard him. He was crying,” Chanyeol said. He wasn’t sure where the words came from, but they tumbled from his lips like an avalanche. “They’re hurting him. I felt everything.”

There was a moment of silence, and Chanyeol imagined Suho was glancing back at the others, who were no doubt hovering closely. “We should go back to the hospital.”   
  
Chanyeol shot upright, his hands clamoring for something to anchor himself onto. “It’s not me,” he said, his panic swarming behind his already tight and throbbing chest. Suho grabbed onto his forearms. 

He wracked his mind, searching for who cried out in such unbearable agony- who suffered such terrible torture. Chanyeol wasn’t feeling his own sensations, but rather, a projection of someone else’s- someone’s absolute misery crept into his own bones and soaked him to the core.

But who?   
  


 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“It’s Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whispered, staring Suho in the eye. The latter’s expression flickered. “It’s him. He’s hurting.”   
  
“You’re delirious-”   
  
“No, Junmyeon. I’m right. I know I am.” He recognized, now, the desperate voice crying for his help. “I’ve felt it before. I just...was never sure what it was. But now I know.”   
  
Chanyeol swallowed. “It’s Baekhyun. I can feel him. We’re connected.”


	5. V. Xiumin

  1. XIUMIN



 

Minseok didn’t know what to think. 

Chanyeol collapsing on the floor in front of all of them, writhing and convulsing, broken cries that sounded nothing like his own streaming from his lips, shook Minseok to his core. He instinctively clasped onto Jongdae’s arm, making sure he was there and solid beside him. Their past interaction with the robot had them all shaken, especially Minseok and Jongdae. He almost lost Jongdae from something as deceivingly simple as a head injury. If they had been a second later in defeating the robot, he could have lost him. He wasn’t going to let that happen again.

 

After Suho and Jongin roused Chanyeol and brought him into his room, shutting the door behind them, Minseok pulled Jongdae to the couch and wordlessly shoved a controller into his hand. The latter didn’t protest, cradling it and pressing the Start button, a bright array of flashing lights, words, and graphics dancing along their rickety TV screen. Minseok barely paid mind to the others, saying nothing as Kyungsoo retreated to the kitchen and Sehun began pacing behind them, his footfalls heavy and sporadic. He struggled to pay attention to the side-scroll video game before him as the two fought of holographic monkeys and monstrous crocodiles. He kept his shoulder pressed against Jongdae’s, assuring his troubled mind that the latter was there. He was okay.

 

But that didn’t mean the others were. Jongin, he knew, still suffered from bruised ribs, and Suho had nearly been killed in the attack. He even lost his orb, and the team would suffer tremendously in future fights as a result. Without all nine orbs together, they were weak. And nearly every fight they encountered, they took it on with only seven. They couldn’t afford to lose another. Chanyeol wasn’t okay, either, and for the first time in months, Minseok realized how little he and the others paid attention to him. Ever since Baekhyun’s disappearance, he pulled back and rarely spoke. When he did, cynicism and venom dripped from his lips in bladed words that would tear into the team’s morale. But now, Minseok realized how Chanyeol was affected. Instead of the superficial, angry man he had become, Minseok could see the vulnerability and despair glossed over his eyes, and when they changed forms, he noticed how dull his red eye had become. Baekhyun’s loss affected Chanyeol in a way that no one really understood, but for the first time, Chanyeol shared something with the team that shook the ground beneath their feet: Baekhyun and Chanyeol were connected. 

 

Minseok didn’t know how or why. He didn’t know what to think.

 

When Jongdae slammed against the wall, cracking the back of his skull against brick, Minseok felt a searing pain ripple through his skull, the pain exploding and crackling like a wildfire until dulling to ash. He rounded the corner after the migraine to find Jongdae slumped against the wall. Perhaps Chanyeol was right, Minseok thought. There had definitely been instances where Minseok could swear he could hear and feel what Jongdae was thinking at random times, especially during combat. No one knew what the terms and conditions were of their newfound powers, and some strange psychic connection couldn’t be outruled so easily.  

 

Minseok turned his head to Jongdae, who was engrossed in their game, his fingers fidgeting and dancing over the buttons and joy sticks, his tongue creeping from his sealed lips, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the screen. A soft smile tugged at the corner of Minseok’s lips as he watched him. He reached up and tenderly brushed the hair away from his forehead, careful to avoid the thick bandaging around his hair. Jongdae tensed under his touch and his fingers panicked over the buttons before he turned to face him. His cheeks flushed red. Minseok shook his head with a gentle chuckle. 

 

“Your hair was getting in your way.”

 

The TV flashed bright red as both Minseok and Jongdae’s characters died at the hands of one of the mutant crocodiles. 

 

“You made me lose,” Jongdae pouted. 

 

Minseok laughed and leaned back on the couch. Sehun continued to pace behind them. “You suck at this game anyway. It’s only a matter of time.”   
  


Jongdae’s face contorted, and he opened his mouth to protest, but he was cut off as the door to Chanyeol’s room cracked open. Suho emerged and Jongin followed, their heads ducked close together as they whispered. Suho pressed his hand flush against the door, softly closing it as the two stepped out into the living area. The TV continued to blare, and Sehun stopped pacing, turning to face Suho expectantly.

  
Minseok studied his leader’s face. His eyebrows were knotted and his brow was sweaty, small beads of stress collecting at his temple and making his skin shine under the yellow lighting. His shoulders slumped, as if the weight of the universe rested upon them, and his feet dragged beneath his feet. He must’ve been exhausted, not to mention adding the stress of Chanyeol’s strange epiphany and the loss of his own orb. 

 

“Anything?” Sehun shifted his weight impatiently. 

 

Suho sighed, and moved to sit beside Minseok and Jongdae, dipping his head back to rest on the couch cushion. “Everything.”   
  
“What do you mean?” Minseok pried. 

 

“Chanyeol’s out of it, but he’s convinced he’s communicating with Baekhyun- that they have some kind of link,” Suho said. “He said he could feel him being... _ tortured _ , or something terrible, that the pain he felt was only a sliver of what Baekhyun is going through.

 

“That’s impossible,” Kyungsoo nervously whimpered. 

 

“Nothing’s impossible with these powers,” Minseok countered. “If Chanyeol’s convinced Baekhyun’s in trouble, we need to take his word for it. This is the first  _ hint  _ of Baekhyun we sensed in months.”

 

“He’s delirious,” Jongin offered, stepping forward. “ It’s not wise to follow through on anything he says until he’s sobered up. We’re not going to do anything until then.”   
  
Minseok shot a glare at Jongin. “You’re not the leader. It’s not your call to make.”

 

Suho sat up, putting his hands up over his head, unstrung by the bickering. “Guys, stop,” he insisted. “I’m not calling the shots for anything, but Minseok is right. This  _ is  _ the closest we’ve come to having some kind of contact with Baekhyun.”

 

“For all we know he could be dead,” Jongin snapped. Minseok glared at him. 

 

“How can you say that?” he asked incredulously, standing from his place on the couch, and stepping up t Jongin. He was nearly two heads shorter than the latter, but that didn’t stop Jongin from cringing back in alarm. “He’s our friend. Our  _ brother. _ And we lost him. Why wouldn’t jump at any possibility in getting him back?” He was nose to nose with him now. 

 

“This isn’t time for a civil war,” Suho said, stepping in between them and pressing his hands to their chests. “I’m going to follow up on what Chanyeol said. If it’s true, and we’re all connected to each other, we might just have a shot at finding Baekhyun. Yixing, too.”

 

“Maybe they’re together,” Kyungsoo said, nibbling on a granola bar he pulled from his back pocket. “They disappeared around the same time.”

 

Suho nodded. “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” he said. “Once Chanyeol wakes up, we’ll see what we can find out.”   
  
“I still think this is a bad idea,” Jongin snarled. “As much as I care for Baekhyun and Yixing, I don’t think it’s worth sacrificing the whole team.”

 

Minseok stepped closer, again, and Suho kept a wary eye on him. He was taken aback with the audacity Jongin flaunted in order to be able to dismiss finding Baekhyun so easily. Minseok would stop at nothing to get his friends back and to ensure they were safe, even if that meant he had to embark on a journey to find Baekhyun alone. He wouldn’t stop. The only reason he had before, was because they were convinced he was dead. 

 

“No one said anything about sacrificing,” Minseok chided. “But we are going to focus our efforts on this lead. We fight robots when they come, we take tests and study, but if Baekhyun’s in trouble, I won’t stop until we save him. Like he saved us.”

 

Jongin fell silent, his cocky face faltering. His fists clenched and trembled at his sides, his knuckles white and his fingers twitching. He ducked his head and wordlessly turned to his room he shared with Sehun, slamming the door behind him. 

 

“He’ll turn around,” Suho said, clapping Minseok on the shoulder. “Jongin’s always...wanted to come into a leading role, but he’s still young.”   
  
Minseok nodded mutely. 

 

Sehun followed Jongin into the room.

  
  


The next morning, Minseok had Political Philosophy 105, but he couldn’t bring himself to roll out of bed. A weight equal to that of an elephant sat on his chest, digging into his ribs and snapping the bone in two. Dread seeped into his bones, and they felt like lead, pinning him to his bed. Jongdae snoring above him scraped through the air like nails on a chalkboard, his throat rumbling and huffing as he breathed. Minseok rolled onto his side, folding his pillow in two over his head to block out the noise. The red number of the small, digital clock across the room glared at him. The bright red reminded him of the sinister crimson that would bear down on him when fighting the robot, its singular, determined eye trailed on him. There was no emotion laced behind the artificial light, and Minseok wasn’t sure what would frighten him more: the presence of emotion behind a hard-wired entity or a lack of it.

 

Minseok could only wonder when a new robot would return or who sent them. Among school work, new powers, missing brothers, and these robots, it was impossible to sort out the tsunami of questions that race through his mind. For Minseok, he’s left with nothing but mental lists, jotting down priorities and small goals that all lead into one major question: WHY?

 

The largest priority, in Minseok’s mental checklist, is Baekhyun and Yixing. He was nearly done with school, his Master’s degree within reach, so the next biggest thing to worry about was their two brothers who vanished into the air. For months, Minseok’s wondered where they are, who took them- if anyone-, and if they’re alright. Based off of Chanyeol’s freak out, he could assume that they weren’t. All of his questions circulated around the missing two, and everything followed second. They could keep fighting off the robots as long as they kept adapting at the same pace. Although increasingly difficult, Minseok was sure they could defeat the next few if they were trained, smarter, and more careful. What they couldn’t do, however, is go on with their studies and their lives, ignoring the two missing people who made everything possible.

 

The numbers on the clock continued to rack up until Minseok ultimately decided skipping class would be worth it. He slid from his bed, the carpeted floorboards creaking beneath his weight as he crawled from the room, his body still stuffed with lead and laced with exhaustion. 

Mindlessly walking through the living room, Minseok found himself standing outside Chanyeol’s door. He heard soft snoring on the other side of the thin wood, and pushed the door open with the flat of his palms. The latter was curled up on the bottom bunk, tucked in up to his chin so that all Minseok could see was a bright, frizzy tuft of blue. A sad smile tempted him, but he bit it away and stalked across to the desks. The desk on the left was completely empty and blank, save for a silver bracelet resting on the top. Minseok pulled out the chair and sat down, careful to be quiet. He prodded at the bracelet with his fingers before slipping it onto his hand. The metal felt so delicate, despite being laced with pure metal and silver. The word, “ _ Fearless” _ carved onto the side glared up at him like a cruel memory. 

 

Baekhyun never took the bracelet off. When he first met him, his eyes and smile bright as he had ever seen, he asked what the engraving on the bracelet symbolized. He only faltered and then insisted it was a mere family heirloom- that he had no idea what the story behind it was. Minseok saw through him like tissue paper, but refused to intervene any further. He never saw Baekhyun without it, not even once they started fighting the robots. He wore it to sleep, to class, to the pool, and to combat. At night, Minseok would come back from a late night class only to see Baekhyun perched on the couch, cradling his wrist and staring at the engraving with such longing and emotion that Minseok couldn’t find it in him to interrupt the younger. That was the last time he saw the bracelet with its owner. 

 

When Baekhyun never came home, and their search party ended up on the beach, he found the bracelet. Glistening silver submerged half in sand, the bracelet sang a song of despair. Minseok knelt down, Jongdae at his side as tears bulged at the corners of his eyes. He stood the bracelet, broken at the chain link, cradled in his hand. His cheeks felt hot and sticky as he trembled and staggered toward the others, who had heard his initial outraged cry and quickly closed the distance between them. Chanyeol grabbed at Minseok’s hands, prying his palms apart to reveal the silver bracelet.  _ Fearless, _ it said, but the fear that enslaved the seven obliterated them. 

 

_ “Where is he?” Minseok remembered Chanyeol’s desperate whisper.  _

  
  


Minseok shook his head. He turned over the bracelet between two fingers, running his fingertip over the engraving. “Where are you?” he whispered. 

 

“Minseok?”   
  
He jumped as if his entire body was struck by lightning. His head swiveled, and he saw Chanyeol sat up in his bed, rubbing at his eyes with his fists. Minseok stood, flustered, and shoved the chair back in, tossing the bracelet back onto the desk. “Chanyeol-” he gasped. “I’m sorry if I woke you up. I was just leaving.”

 

For once, Chanyeol looked at Minseok with ease and fragility in his eyes. He sighed, his eyes obviously heavy and dripping with exhaustion. “I don’t mind you looking at the bracelet,” he said. “You found it, after all.”   
  
Minseok shook his head. His eyes burned. He couldn’t talk about this- not with Chanyeol. “You should get back to sleep. You need rest.”   
  
“I’m fine,” he said, leaning against the frame of the bunkbed. “I already feel better.”

 

Minseok shuffled on his feet, his eyes darting around the room as he desperately looked for an out. Unfortunately, Chanyeol trapped him.   
  
“You believe me, don’t you?”   
  
He blinked. “What do you mean?”

 

“I know Junmyeon told you all what I said- he had to have,” Chanyeol said. “And I’m not crazy either. I know what I felt was Baekhyun, and if you sneaking in here says anything, I’d say you believe me.”

 

He sighed, and pulled out the chair again, this time turning it so he could sit facing Chanyeol. “I mean, I have to,” he said. “If there’s any chance Baekhyun’s out there…”   
  
“It’s bad, Minseok,” he whispered. “With Baekhyun- he’s in real trouble.”   
  
“How do you know exactly? Suho said he was being  _ tortured.” _

 

“That’s sure what it felt like,” Chanyeol said. “Pain exploded everywhere, and I know it wasn’t my own. Plus, Baekhyun spoke to me. He was begging for help.” 

 

Minseok could tell Chanyeol was biting back tears. He was, as well. He could still feel the ghost weight of the bracelet in his limp hands. “How...How do we find him?”   
  
Chanyeol deflated. “I’m not sure. I have to try and make another connection to him.”   
  
“And you really think we could all be connected?”   
  
“We’re college kids who got super-powers. At this point, I think anything is possible,” Chanyeol said. “We thought Baekhyun was dead, when we found his bracelet. But now, there’s a strong possibility he’s alive. Anything is possible.”   
  
Minseok craned his neck over his shoulder. The silver bracelet continued to mock him. “I’m sorry, Chanyeol.”   
  
The latter perked up, the vulnerability flickering across his features again. “What?”

 

“I’m sorry no one’s been helping you,” Minseok whispered. “We’ve all shut you out, because of how you acted after Baekhyun disappeared, but how can anyone blame you? He was your best friend.”

 

“I don’t care if anyone helped me,” he retorted. “As long as I can find Baekhyun.”   
  
Minseok sighed. “I know you don’t care. You just.. You deserve better,” he said. “We’re your family- your brothers- and we’ve let you down. But I swear, I won’t let you down again. I’m with you. Even if the others aren’t.”   
  
Chanyeol was shell-shocked, his brow scrunched and mouth ajar as he listened to Minseok, but he straightened his shoulders. “Okay,” he said softly. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

 


	6. 00.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please, just make it stop.

OO. Baekhyun

 

            Everything ached, his joints screamed in fire.

Red faces, red syringes, crimson blood.

               White walls, white sheets, pale skin.

Stiff beds, iron rails, cold hands.

 

                  The cold hands pin him down,

The pain never stopped.

                 Bright lights tore into his skin,

Ripping and tearing, gnarly teeth ripping into him.

                  The teeth, red and gnarly.

 

He wants it to stop.

 

    _Please, make it stop._

 

~~_Chanyeol?_ ~~


	7. VII. Sehun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chanyeol, Minseok, and Sehun work towards coming in contact with Baekhyun.

VII. Sehun

Sehun was surprised to find Chanyeol and Minseok awake and sitting on the couch before dawn. They were sitting close, their voices hushed as they discussed. Sehun stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall, before clearing his throat. Minseok noticed him first, straightening up and tapping at Chanyeol’s shoulder. The latter turned toward him as well, and Sehun tensed up.  
Chanyeol stared at him before a moment, his face solemn and grim, before turning back toward Minseok.

Chanyeol terrified Sehun since Baekhyun’s disappearance. Before, Chanyeol would stagger out of his bedroom with a terrible case of bed hair and sleepy smile, and he would spend all his time babying and bothering Sehun with an annoying, shit-eating grin on his face. Sehun didn’t realize how much he missed it until it was gone. He missed the days were all nine of them would go out after classes, host video game tournaments, and sleep in on rainy Saturdays. Everything was perfect, but now it wasn’t. And he fought every instinct in his body that wanted to blame Baekhyun.

“What are you guys doing?” he asked, stepping into the living room, ignoring a glare Chanyeol sent him.

“We’re just talking,” Minseok said, sitting back against the couch. “It’s early, Sehun, go back to bed.”

“I could say the same to you,” he said. “And no offense, Chanyeol, but it’s not like we get up early and talk anymore. What’s going on?”

Chanyeol stood, and Sehun staggered back. Chanyeol still towered a few inches above him. “Just go back to bed,” he hissed. “This doesn’t involve you.”

“I’m your friend, Chanyeol. I deserve to know what’s going on,” he argued.

“Like hell-”

“Chanyeol,” Minseok called, interrupting him. “Maybe he can help.”

Sehun slipped past Chanyeol to stand in front of Minseok. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that if Chanyeol and Minseok were talking, a sight rarely seen with any of them and Chanyeol, something big was going on, and he refused to be the kid left in the dark. Especially if Baekhyun and Yixing were involved.

“Help with what?” Sehun demanded.

Chanyeol said nothing, looking at him reluctantly before taking his spot on the couch.

“We think we’re getting somewhere,” Minseok said. “There are a lot more aspects to our powers than we realize.”

Sehun blanched and took a seat on the edge of the coffee table so he could face Minseok and Chanyeol. They all knew there were aspects and parts of their powers that they never understood, nor will, especially without Baekhyun. He wasn’t sure of everything either, but it all happened at his hands, so they foolishly hoped he’d have all the answers.

For now, they were blind kids struggling with powers they didn’t understand.

“What do you mean?” Sehun murmured.

“Remember when Chanyeol collapsed yesterday?”

“Well, yeah..” He flashed Chanyeol a look. “How could I not?”

Minseok turned to glance at Chanyeol as well. “He said he heard Baekhyun- felt what Baekhyun felt.”

“But that’s impossible-”

“Will you shut up and listen?” Chanyeol snapped, hands tangled into his own hair. His eyes were wide, but heavy with thick dark circles that aged him horribly.

Minseok pressed a hand to his chest. “Calm down. I didn’t believe you either.” He shook his head. He turned his attention back to Sehun. “Listen. Chanyeol and I think we’re connected. All of us. Our powers tie us together in some way.”

“I...don’t understand.”

 

“I think it may be some kind of defense mechanism,” he said. “Something that’ll ensure we’re kept together--”

“That didn’t help us with Yixing and Baekhyun,” Sehun demanded boldly. The loss of his elders hurt him more than he initially let on, hiding his grief into his pillow at night, letting his desperation and sadness seep out in the form of fat tears absorbed into the pillow case; he let his prayers meet dead air in the night. If whatever force cursed them with these powers somehow tried to keep them tied together, it was doing a terrible job.

“I know, I just…” Minseok tugged at his sleeves, almost in desperation for Sehun to understand. “We can feel each other’s pain- everyone’s connected to another member, and maybe the bond is kicking in because Baekhyun needs our help. I felt the same sensation when Jongdae got hurt.”

“So what about Suho?” Sehun interjected. “When he was attacked did someone feel him too?”

“I did.”

Sehun twisted around where he sat to see Kyungsoo lingering in the doorway, his gaze glued to the floor. He held a steaming coffee mug in his hand, the steam curling around his boyish face and slightly masking his somber expression.

“I was the one who found out he was attacked,” he said, stepping in the room, much to Chanyeol and Minseok’s surprise. “It was like someone stabbed me in the stomach, and I knew something was wrong; it was like I could hear him in the back of my head, begging me to come help.”

Sehun stared at Kyungsoo, a deep shudder rattling throughout his body. To imagine their leader- a man of composure and poise- crying out for help, disturbed him. He always seemed invincible, but Sehun assumed that was part of his own naivety at play. He liked to pretend that they didn’t have powers- that they were simply college kids dealing with normal college problems like getting to class on time and what parties to attend. He insisted on convincing himself that they were safe, that there were no droids constantly coming after them- that one of them hadn’t stolen Suho’s powers.

“So what if we’re connected?” Sehun demanded, voice weak and broken. “Baekhyun’s still missing. Yixing is still gone. Suho’s powers are gone. What are we supposed to do?”

Chanyeol cleared his throat, tilting his head in Sehun’s direction. “If…If I can find a way to control or somewhat channel this connection with Baekhyun, we can communicate with him,” he said. “We can find out where he is.”

“And if we’re a step closer to Baekhyun, we’re a step closer to Yixing,” Minseok added.

Sehun was still skeptical. Since Baekhyun’s disappearance, Sehun couldn’t bring himself to trust Chanyeol. He always left them in battle, disregarded their safety and thoughts, crumpled them up and pushed them aside like garbage even after Baekhyun made them swear.

He remembered his promise. He would always remember his promise- but nobody else seemed to.

Instead of arguing further, Sehun bowed his head in defeated. He just wanted them to be a family again. “How can I help?”

 

“This is dangerous,” Sehun said, staring at Chanyeol as he sat on the floor of his dorm room, legs crossed at his ankles and hands tucked in his lap. The lights were off, the small bedroom shrouded in darkness.

Sehun sat on the bed, pulling his legs close to his chest and resting his chin on them. He didn’t want Chanyeol to go through with it. After witnessing what happened the last time Chanyeol matched his connection with Baekhyun. The last thing he wanted was another hospital trip.

“He’ll be fine,” Minseok assured him as he took the spot beside him on the bed. Kyungsoo stood in the corner, silent with his arms firmly crossed across his chest. “We’re just experimenting.”

“What makes you think this will work?” Kyungsoo interjected. “We have no control over the powers we’ve known about for months. What makes you think that we’ll be able to control some psychic connection?”

“We don’t know,” Chanyeol said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “But I have to try. I want Baekhyun back just as much as you do. From what I felt the first time… We have to get him out. We have to find him.”

Sehun observed as Kyungsoo fell back to his silence, leaning against the wall. Chanyeol sighed and let his eyes slip shut, clenching Baekhyun’s silver bracelet in his right fist. The scene reminded Sehun of a cheesy witch or horror movie, and he couldn’t believe he offered to help them with this madness.

They sat for what felt like hours, Chanyeol’s alarm clock clicking and shattering the silence every second. Silence carried on, thick and pregnant as it hovered over the room, suffocating Sehun. Chanyeol kept still, his fist shaking and eyes scrunched tightly.

“Alright, I’ve had enough-” Sehun snapped, the clicking of the clock driving him insane, but as soon as he stood, Chanyeol gasped and dropped the bracelet, clutching at his throat.

“Chanyeol?” Minseok edged, his voice cautious as he was immediately by the latter’s side.

Sehun’s heart fell into his stomach, staring at Chanyeol as he choked, his face turning a deep shade of purple in the darkness. His eyes were glossy and glazed, as if there was no emotion or thought behind the beady orbs.

“Chanyeol!”

 

He could do nothing but stare in horror as Chanyeol trembled and pitched to the side, his face crumbled in pain. Minseok cradled him, shaking him by his shoulders, shouting his name. Sehun’s ears sharply rung, the world titling and spinning around him as he stared at his brother shaking and desperately trying for a decent breath.

Suddenly, Chanyeol stopped, his face ebbing back to its original color as he straightened up, gasping.

Minseok continued to grapple onto him, eyes wide and face ghostly pale. “Chanyeol, are you okay? What happened?”

Chanyeol sat there for a moment, eyes wide and mouth gaping like a fish out of water. His hands were trembling- hard- and Sehun couldn’t help but kneel in front of him and take his hands in his, warming them. “Chanyeol?”

“I...Baekhyun showed me something- I think,” he murmured.

“What?”

“I saw...a white room,” he began, eyes still empty. “No windows. White sheets. White floors. Everything hurt my eyes, it was so bright. There was a bed with red straps across it and a...surgical tray with tools that didn’t look human.”

“Where was it?” Minseok pressed.

“I.. I don’t know,” Chanyeol murmured. “He showed me a woman with a red visor. She was smiling, and her skin was completely white as snow. He’s scared. Fear radiated from everywhere.”

“He must be kept there?” Sehun whispered under his breath. “Tools, beds with straps.. Sounds like a torture chamber. Maybe it’s some kind of lab!”

“No, but…” Chanyeol shook his head, as if trying to shake everything into place. “I saw a bunch of fast images, like a serpent with red and white scales, a long white table, and a van. It was different from the white room, everything was dark and scary, like everything would pop up and kill me.”

Minseok sent Sehun a confused, pinched glance. “None of this makes sense, Chanyeol…”

Chanyeol groaned and furiously pawed at his face, rubbing at his eyes. “I know, I know!”

“Baekhyun’s trying to tell you where he is,” Kyungsoo mumbled. “Before, he was in pain. Before, he must’ve been in that white room- that lab. Maybe he’s trying to show us where he is now. Maybe he escaped.”

“He can help us out a little more than showing me random ass pictures,” Chanyeol snapped.

Minseok grabbed at his shoulder. “That’s enough. We’ll try again later. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

Sehun moved away from Chanyeol, his eyes and heart heavy. He didn’t understand what any of the images Chanyeol described meant, and he could only wish that Baekhyun, if this connection was real and Chanyeol wasn’t insane, could give them some solid information. He couldn’t take this disconnect anymore- this dysfunction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know the story is moving slowly and I've been poor with updates. I haven't been happy with my writing/style lately; I still am not happy with it, but I figured I should update just to push myself past a barrier. 
> 
> I'm unhappy with my overall production value and quality of my writing, and I'm not sure if it has to with this story in particular and the fact that it does not follow my usual portfolio/style, but I will try my best to keep up my motivation with this story. I have big plans for it, and some of the style and organization may change depending on what makes my writing better.
> 
> Thanks for being so patient and taking the time to read!


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